Halloween Hop

Wednesday, June 25, 2014

Independence Day, better known as the Fourth of July, is the birthday of the United States of America. It is celebrated on July 4th each year in states and territories
of the United
States
and is the anniversary of the day on which the Declaration of Independence was
adopted by the Continental Congress—July 4, 1776.

The founders of our new nation and thirteen colonies considered
Independence Day an important occasion for rejoicing. The first Independence
Day was observed in Philadelphia on July 8,
1776. The Declaration was read, bells were rung, bands
played, and the population rejoiced. In early day, Independence Days were occasions
for shows, games, sports, military music, and fireworks.

The exuberant use of fireworks and the firing of funs
and cannons caused deaths and injuries in the early days. By the 1900s, people
began a movement toward a “safe and sane” Fourth. Cities across our nation
passed laws forbidding the sale of fireworks unless trained people were hired
to explode them.

In 1941, Congress declared July 4th a
federal legal holiday. Today, many communities stress the patriotic importance of
the holiday and celebrate with programs, pageants, games and plays, athletic
contests and picnics.

Monday, June 23, 2014

I'm pleased to
present an excerpt of Brenda Whiteside's new book, The Art of Love and
Murder, published in April 2014 by The Wild Rose Press. It is "Book
One" in the Love and Murder Series.

Although she didn’t start out to
write romance, Brenda found all good stories involve complicated human
relationships. She has also found no matter a person’s age, a new discovery is
right around every corner. Whether humorous or serious, straight contemporary
or suspense, all her books revolve around those two facts.

In celebration of the release of The Art of Love and Murder, Brenda is offering a $25 Amazon Gift
Card. Please take time to enter the Rafflecopter giveaway at the bottom of the
blog post.

EXCERPT:

Momentarily struck dumb by his eye color, she stared
back. Why hadn’t she noticed until now? Although not as light as hers or her
father’s, the professor’s eyes were a startling green shade.

His hand nudged her arm. “Lacy?”

She jumped. “Oh, yes.” She slipped the tissue from
the half-carved wolf.Another glance at his eyes
and goose bumps riddled her arms.

He lifted the wood close to his face, using both
hands as if handling a delicate hummingbird. His thumb traced the neck of the
creature to the juncture of where it emerged from the wood. When he brought the
piece to his nose, closing his eyes and breathing deeply, Lacy wanted to turn
away from the oddly erotic gesture.

He swallowed, opened his eyes and set the wolf back
on the tissue. His attention shifted to the photograph of the chest. He touched
the photo, a smile on his lips. “Where is the chest?”

The chest. Like he knew it, had seen it before. “I’m
having it sent. You’ve seen it before?”

He didn’t move, stared out the window as if deep in
thought. “I’d like to show you something, Lacy.”

“All right.” She waited, watching his profile.

He turned and stared into her face a moment. “You’re
so very lovely. A creation full of life and passion, surpassing any art form.”

His hypnotic voice floated on the classical strains
drifting from the living room. She couldn’t speak. Didn’t know what to say.
She’d been lifted upon a pedestal of admiration. With any other man, she might
consider his words a means to a sexual end. The professor’s intentions,
however, were crystal. He admired her like a work of art.

BRENDA ASKS HER READERS:

When it comes to the setting in a story, do you
prefer an imaginary place or the real thing? To date, all my stories have taken
place in real cities. I’ve had to change the names of hotels and restaurants,
but I still pattern them after the real places. I have a friend who writes
paranormal. What I like about her books, well one of the things I like, is her
fantasies take place in real places. Kind of fun to imagine vampires walking
next to me on the streets where I live! So how about you, real or imaginary
places?

Saturday, June 7, 2014

This year, the month of June crept up on us slowly and silently, easing it's way into the summer season, instread of "busting out all over" like the song so aptly implies. It was a chilly spring
with lots of rain, and the foliage and flowers huddled until the last moment to
greet the summer sun.

June is one of my favorite
months. The world is new and green. It’s the time of year when the smell of
roses, lily-of-the-valley, and wisteria linger on the mist as dusk arrives.
It’s the month when you can smell sun-baked hay in the fields and fresh-wet
earth in the gentle rains.

If you close your eyes, you
can hear a repertoire of songs from the birds—the trill of the song sparrows,
the cry of the killdeers and blue jays, the chatter of the chick-a-dees, and
the soft lilt of the whippoorwills. It’s a time when the wind whispers in the
pines and leafy maples, and bobs and bends the tall meadow grasses into
rippling waves.

June is a time of motion and
excitement as butterflies, bees, and hummingbirds juggle for space and a taste
of the blooming flowers. But June is serene and calm when nightfall arrives and
a sliver of a golden moon hangs in the star-filled sky…and the only
interruption in the silence is the tranquil sounds of night insects and tree
frogs serenading each other in the grass.

And what is
so rare as a day in June?Then, if ever, come perfect days. . . --From: The Vision of
Sir Launfal

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About Me

Welcome! I am a Pennsylvania writer and author of short stories and novels. My latest contemporary romance is FOUR WHITE ROSES. Please feel free to sign up for my newsletter. Comments are always welcome and appreciated.